


your heart's a mess, it's obvious

by criminalmindz_ (mcrhomo), mcrhomo



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Autistic Spencer Reid, Bisexual Spencer Reid, M/M, Porn With Plot, Secret Relationship, homophobic jj, she gets a redemption arc though <3, the timeline is all fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27238069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcrhomo/pseuds/criminalmindz_, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcrhomo/pseuds/mcrhomo
Summary: Dr Reid didn't have a good experience with relationships, and it seemed he was okay with the prospect of being alone. He puts the effort into his mind, into learning, leaving his heart broken and messy.Some things, though, are only learned through experience -- and someone new he meets turns out to be a great teacher.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

It's well known that the BAU has been through many things together, good, bad, and ugly. Spencer Reid was only 22 when he joined the BAU, making him the youngest yet most qualified person there. He had six degrees, three BAs and three PhDs, but learned through his time there that most information in the world is empirical. He didn't have much of a life outside of work, which was okay because with a job as tolling as that one he couldn't afford the strain of outside relationships; not to mention that the last time he sought romance she was killed right in front of him. He was mostly okay with the prospect of being alone. 

There was another part to that -- it could be called a deep, dark secret, but the truth is he would probably tell someone if it came up, but it just never has. Dr Reid had his fair share of sexual experiences in college, being a teenager and fumbling with girls -- but also boys. To him it was an irrelevant piece of information that wouldn't have to come up again because he wouldn't seek a relationship after Maeve. 

He wouldn't admit to himself that he craves that romantic or even sexual attention -- he wouldn't admit to himself that he was actually very lonely if you look past his exterior. He was a hurt man, broken in some ways, and that was the one thing he couldn't figure out how to fix. He would lay awake at night contemplating the concept of permanence, envisioning himself alone at his funeral and being terrified at the idea. He wanted someone to be his; he wanted to belong to someone, have a face to wake up to in the morning, a reason to keep going. He wanted something meaningful to come home to every day. 

He would never say this. He kept going, working because that's the only thing that was supposed to matter. The last case he was on was in their own territory in Virginia, researching a number of missing children after a recent abduction proved to be connected with a dozen more. They solved the case: the couple employed a victim for over eight years to help abduct the children. They were operators of a crematorium, which is why the bodies were never found. 

It was a win in Reid's mind: three out of twelve children were reunited with their parents. The BAU went for drinks, downtime before their next case. JJ's son had an incident at home she needed to take care of, nothing serious but enough to go home for. Hotchner and Rossi left soon after, and Morgan and Garcia after that. That left Reid, drinking some lemon flavored liquor at a table alone. 

Once the capacity of the bar quieted down and Reid was on his fifth glass of lemon something, one of the bartenders took off his apron and sat across from him. 

"Every time I see you here you're the last one left of your group."

"They're my coworkers. They all have family lives to tend to and not enough time for recreation."

The bartender chuckled. "So this is recreation to you?" 

"Well," Reid said. "Recreation is defined as an activity done for enjoyment when one isn't working, so ultimately, yes."

Smiling, the bartender noted, "You're odd. My name is Friday." He held out his hand. 

Hesitantly, Reid took his hand and shook it. "Dr Spencer Reid. It's nice to meet you."

"Doctor, huh? What kind?"

"Math, chemistry, engineering. I work for the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"That's so cool." 

Spencer hadn't met anyone new in a long time, and surely wasn't expecting to spend two and a half hours explaining the role of the BAU to Friday, but ended up giving Friday his cell number anyway. He slept that night with Friday's face on his mind.

\------

A week or so later, Reid was on another case in New Mexico involving several murdered women when his phone rang while delivering the profile. It was an unknown number, but you never know when something will be a lead. "Hold on a minute, I need to take this," Reid told Blake and the rest of the room. 

"Reid," He answered as soon as he closed the door behind him. 

"Doctor," a familiar voice replied. "It's Friday, how are you?"

"I'm at work delivering the profile of a serial killer," Reid replied nonchalantly. 

"Oh," Friday said. "Do you need me to call back?"

Spencer looked at Blake who seemed to be doing just fine delivering the profile on her own. "No, it's okay."

"Okay, good," Friday said. "I was calling to ask if you wanted to meet up sometime." 

"Oh," Reid was a bit startled at the prospect. "Uh, sure. I'm in New Mexico at the moment, so it may need to wait a bit."

"Okay, how long will you be there?"

"There's no ETA. I'll be flying home as soon as the killer is detained." 

"That's alright," Friday said. "Just call me when you get back into Quantico."

"Sure. Thanks, Friday." Reid said, and he was about to hang up when Friday interrupted. 

"Wait, Spencer?"

"Yes?"

"How much of this is classified?"

"Only the leads and the suspects. Details that are okay for the press to broadcast are generally open for us, as well."

"Do you think--" Friday chuckled. "This is a weird request, but could you call me tonight or before you get in and tell me about your case?" 

"Oh, uh…" No one had ever asked him that before. "I will."

"Thanks. I'll talk to you later, Spencer."

"Goodbye, Friday," Reid said before hanging up. 

As he reentered the room, Blake asked him who it was. 

"My mother," he lied. "Her dog just died."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I really could've used your help delivering the profile, though."

"I'm sorry," Reid responded. "If anything like that comes up again, I'll send it to voicemail."

\------

When Reid was back in his hotel room, he contemplated his cell phone in his hands and dialed Friday's number. 

The two talked for hours about the case and Friday even brought up some points that Reid had missed. It was incredible how fluent they could be with each other when talking about these things. 

They talked until maybe 1am when Friday's shift started. "I'll see you around, Spence." 

"You too, Friday."

Reid realized he would have to be up in five hours and tried to fall asleep fast, but couldn't because Friday's voice was still echoing in his mind. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was wondering what that meant.


	2. two

After a stressful hostage situation ending with a trucker's suicide in front of his young daughter, the BAU went back home on the jet nearing midnight. Rossi and JJ were asleep on the couches while Blake, Hotchner and Morgan played a tired game of cards. Reid was on the phone with Friday since he told him that he'd call him as soon as he got back to Quantico. 

Blake set down a mean hand and scooped up everyone's trail mix, eyes focused on Reid in the kitchen. 

"What is it, Alex?" Hotchner asked, turning to match her gaze. 

"I don't know," She said. "Does it seem like Reid's maybe been more distracted lately? He took a ten minute phone call yesterday in the middle of delivering the profile and lied about it being his mom. He's not very good at lying."

Morgan smirked. "Maybe he's found someone." 

"No, he couldn't have," Blake says. "Not after what happened to his girlfriend Maeve."

"I don't know," Morgan says. "As unlikely as it seems, there's only one reason guys ever lie about being on the phone with their mother."

Blake looks at Hotchner with one raised eyebrow. "I can't deny it," he says. 

When they get off the plane, they all go straight home. Friday understands that Reid needs sleep. They make plans to meet at the bar the next night.

Reid is distracted from work the next day in anticipation and everyone notices. Blake stops him before he gets the chance to go home. “What’s this about, Reid?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Reid replies.

“Don’t lie,” Blake says. “Remember we analyze body language for a living.”

“I have plans for tonight,” Reid says, making it clear that’s as much information as he wants to give.

Grinning, Blake says, “What’s her name?”

Reid smiles gently at her. “It’s platonic. A friend who had an evening free.”

“Platonic…” Blake considers. “Is it a ‘for now’ type of platonic?”

“It’s platonic,” he repeats, smiling.

\------

Reid and Friday decide to get coffee, even though it was almost night. Friday gets a decaf cold brew, and Reid decides to get a regular black coffee and stirs in powdered cream at their table. They’re nearly the only ones there besides some students writing essays over espresso. 

“I never really get out anymore,” Reid says. “My coworkers are going crazy about this and they think I don’t notice. Blake asked me if it’s a date.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Friday replies with a smile.

Reid stops moving with nervousness. Does Friday really think it’s a date?

“I’m kidding, Spencer,” says Friday, and the tension deflates, but not completely.

“Oh. I knew that.”

“No you didn’t,” Friday laughs. “You thought I was actually hitting on you.”

Reid laughs nervously towards his coffee. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, if I was, I’m pretty sure I’d be turned away after you reacted like that. We gotta make you suave,” he said with his best model’s pout. “You ever been in a relationship?”

“Romantically?” Reid says. “Sort of, I guess. We only met in person once, and that was when she died.”

“Oh,” Friday says. He puts his hand on Reid’s arm in support who can’t help but notice the warmth it brings him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” says Reid. “It’s been a while. I’ve moved on.”

“If you ever need to, you know, talk, I’m here for you.” Friday says, and there’s something behind his eyes that says he means it.

“Thanks, Friday,” says Reid. “But can we talk about something else? It’s sort of a...difficult topic for me.”

“I understand,” says Friday, sipping his coffee through a straw. “Boundaries, you know?”

Reid smiles quaintly at the comment. “How many relationships have you been in?”

“Oh, I see,” Friday says, grinning crookedly. “For me, it’s  _ how many.  _ I guess you’ve profiled me as some kind of whore.”

“No, I don’t--” Reid says, flustered and panicked. “I didn’t--”

“I was kidding again,” Friday says, followed by a sigh of relief. “I guess it depends on what kind of relationship. I’ve had plenty of flings. I always get too attached, though. The last person I was with was insistent that he was straight.”

“That’s common within males between 25 and 40, especially those who are bisexual. Societal standards say they have to like one gender, but really it’s much more complicated than that.”

Friday laughs awkwardly, as that was meant to be a bombshell. His coming out to his new friend.  _ I’m queer.  _ Something about it, though, was comfortable -- like Reid wasn’t going to be weird about it nor was he going to make some overly-dramatic  _ I support you _ speech. It latched on hope to Friday’s attraction to Reid, that maybe he was queer and maybe the whole idea of the two of them wasn’t completely fucking crazy.

“What about you,” Friday said. “You’re a male between 25 and 40. Is it more complicated than you were first told?”

“There’s no need to paraphrase the question, I’m not heterosexual. I’ve had sexual encounters with men and women. Maybe I would like to in the future.”

“Are you out?”

“No,” Reid says, and sips his coffee. “The only reason I’ve never told anyone is because it’s never come up in conversation.”

“It’s a shame that straight is the default, right? Like you can say “she” all day and no one bats an eye, but if I say that my partner is a man, everything is weird.”

“Some modern sexologists are actually advocating for the idea that people are bisexual by default and that their environment and experiences will influence them into becoming attracted to only one gender.”

“Do you agree?”

“Not really. It’s difficult to imagine that someone growing up with traditional, homophobic parents, surrounded by the church, and taught that homosexuality was unnatural would end up gay at the same time as someone with a supportive upbringing, while someone in a supportive community would end up straight at the same time as someone in the first situation.”

“I guess that makes sense. I didn’t really have an upbringing at all, so maybe I’m straight from the manufacturer.”

“ _ Straight _ from the manufacturer?” Reid remarks. He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but feels his heart tingle when Friday laughs softly at it. 

“My parents never actually paid attention to me. It was always my brother who got the attention because he was older and more athletic. I remember being six years old cooking my own meals because my parents never set out a plate for me. And the worst thing is, my psychology professor at NYU, the homophobic asshole, told me to my face that my bisexuality was a coping mechanism for years of attention lost.”

“I promise I’ve read more and seen more than he has. Sexuality often has little connection to one’s childhood, but it’s often linked to it because of how simple it is to blame something on another thing when they’re both regarded as completely binary. For example, a man was sexually assaulted as a child by another man. If he’s gay, it’s because of the incident. If he’s straight, it’s because the incident turned him away.”

“Well, it’s good that I know the statistics of how wrong he was, anyway,” Friday says as he touches the side of Reid’s arm. Supposedly an act of friendship or solidarity, but they both stay silent a little too long after the fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeehee hoohoo i am just a littel queer.......i am just a little fag....  
> anyway yall said u wanted more so im glad 2 deliver. this is kinda entirely self indulgent but im glad it.....indulges?....u as well. i love thinking that reid has a collection in his shelf of queer novels & biographies & references etc


	3. three

It’s unusual for Reid to dream, he doesn’t know why, he just never does. It’s windy in the dream, a bit cold. He’s standing in his old high school. Friday is there.

“Hello, Doctor,” Friday says. “I want to see you.”

“What does that mean?” Reid says. “You’re with me.”

“I want to see you,” he repeats, putting his hands on Reid’s waist. “All of you.”

The dream changes, they’re in Reid’s childhood home and it’s still just him and Friday, who kisses him like he’s never been kissed before, and Reid kisses back, and Friday nips behind his ears and scrapes his teeth lightly over his neck and he’s never felt like this before in his life, not even in a dream. Overtaken by lust he pulls Friday’s shirt above his head, admiring his toned muscles and perfect waist, then removes his own clothes. Friday runs his hands over Reid’s waist, his hips, every part of him being explored and Reid is perfectly okay with it. He looks at Friday’s face in the moments after he’s kissing him and it’s the same face that haunts his dreams every night, the same body he secretly wishes was laying next to him at night -- bare in front of him, the sight giving Reid insurmountable pleasure. 

He wakes up and his pillowcases are soaked with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead and his blood rushing below his belt. He convinces himself it means nothing.

\------

The BAU hasn’t had a long-distance invite in a while, so they’ve recently only been working local cases. Reid has been having more than a few thoughts about Friday, seeing him more often than two casual friends would. 

Reid and Friday sat at the same table at which they first met. Friday’s drink of choice was a beer, and Reid is still drinking what he now knows is called a Lemon Drop.

“Why the Lemon Drop?” Friday asks. 

“What do you mean?” Reid replies. “It’s delicious.”

“No, I mean, it’s kind of a girl’s drink -- I mean, not in a homophobic way, but I rarely ever see dudes our age come in here and order it. If you were new to drinking, I’d understand, because if you’re in college in a bar for the first time and you ask the bartender what she recommends, she’s gonna say the Lemon Drop. I mean, I guess I’ve seen it before, some guys don’t like to stray from tradition and order the same thing every time, but it’s rare.”

“I never went to any bar in college,” Reid said. “They would never let me in.”

“Not even with a fake ID?” Friday says, his head tilted to the side. 

“I was twelve.”

“No kidding...” Friday says, taken aback a little. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

Reid runs his tongue over his teeth. “I remember one time when I wanted to impress this girl in my class, I took a bottle of liquor from my mom’s cabinet and drank half the thing in front of her, then threw it all up a second later and vomited on her shoes.”

Friday laughs vivaciously, and before he can say anything Reid adds, “I was fourteen,” also laughing. When the commotion dies down, Friday smiles and looks at Reid softly and admirably. 

After taking a sip of his Lemon Drop, Reid says, “Tell me about you.”

“What do you mean?” Friday says.

“Most of the times we’ve talked it’s been about me. Tell me about you.”

Friday clicked his tongue. “What about me?”

“I don’t know. What do you want out of life?”

He thinks over the question Reid just asked him, once, twice. Turns it slowly in his mind. “I want to fall in love. Live somewhere nice and quiet with them. I want to cook them meals. Wake up next to them. Life feels like a groundhog-day sort of repetitive nonsense. I want somebody to make it all worth it.”

Reid is silent for a moment. There’s some kind of spell that’s been cast over the room to make everything soft and dim between just the two of them. They both feel it, but assume it’s not mutual.

“What about you?” Friday continues. “What do you want out of life?”

Unlike Friday, Reid doesn’t hesitate. “I want to know everything. I want to know all the answers to all the questions that have ever been asked.”

“But that’s not all, is it?” Friday taunts, leaning over the table. “You want more than that.”

“How would you know?” Reid says.

“I can tell when someone’s heart is a mess. Tell me what you really want.”

With a small laugh, Reid complies. “All of that before was true. I do want to know everything. But that’s impossible because most things are learned through experience. I want....I don’t want to die alone. I want to know without any doubts that there’s someone who’d do anything for me and vice versa. And I want kids.”

“See, Doctor?” Friday says. “You can open up if you just try.”

Reid examines his hands on the table and looks back up with a sharp inhale. “You know I’ve only ever been able to talk like this with one other person in my life. When she died I thought no one would ever understand me the same way. You’re the only one.”

The look in Friday’s eyes is not one of friendship. He wishes Reid would just recognize that. “I’m a lucky man to be that, then.” 

\------

Reid stays awake all night reading books on love. They’re all from his home bookcase, but he doesn’t necessarily read them rather than saying he’s reading them, his eyes unfocused and his mind on his new friend, the one who he may now be admitting to himself is more to him. 

Just because Friday is queer doesn’t mean that he’s romantically interested in him. He’s read -- of course -- about queerplatonic relationships and how important they can be to an individual who identifies outside of the heteronormative box of society. That’s all Friday wants, right? A friendship. But he can’t banish the thoughts of Friday, he can’t stop undressing him in his mind, picturing his lips on his own as he falls asleep. It wouldn’t be fair, he thinks, to continue his friendship with Friday if he were secretly in love with him. 

Friday stays up in the bedroom of his shitty little apartment, viewing Spencer’s already-bookmarked Facebook page. He imagines it saying “in a relationship” and underneath is his own profile picture, his own name. He imagines it saying “married.” God, what’s wrong with him? Honestly, even an “it’s complicated” would calm the stirring in his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i kinda just finished this in one night (i love adderall) but im gonna need to proofread and also i am just a bad person who likes to keep ppl waiting and validation also. leave a comment


	4. four

It had been a week and a half since Reid saw Friday at the bar and the latter still hasn’t escaped Reid’s head. Reid only thinks about Friday. He feels like a schoolgirl with a crush, as if he were writing Dr Spencer Callahan all over the pages of his spiral notebook in class. Maybe it was stupid to think so, but there was some kind of chemistry between them. Reid should be an expert, he has a doctorate in it. At the moment he’s across the coast in San Francisco investigating father-daughter murders and has been calling Friday every night in his hotel to update him on the details. He wants to confess his love for Friday, but the phone isn’t the right place to do it -- he wants it to be in person as soon as they’re back. 

Hotchner is just glad that Reid has something keeping him working hard, because he knows that the sooner the killer is caught the sooner he gets to see whatever it is back in Quantico. He advises the rest of them not to acknowledge any of his unusual behaviors as it may throw a wrench in his work on the investigation.

As soon as they arrive back in Quantico, they go out for drinks again along with the other team they worked with to celebrate their work on the case. Both the father and the daughter made it alive and the sniper on the other team saved lives by shooting the killer. Friday isn’t on shift so Reid patiently orders his Lemon Drop and calls Friday in the bar restroom. The call goes to voicemail. He calls again -- voicemail. Again and again and again all resulting in that beep. Reid does this too often, gets attached to a person or a book or even a scientific theory and gets unstable at the thought of it not being the idea he made of it in his head. This is a few phone calls, maybe he’s busy and doesn’t have his cell with him, but it’s enough to shake Reid almost to pieces. He goes back to the table and picks up his coat, and when Hotchner tries to ask what’s going on he tells him to please leave him alone.

He storms out of the bar and goes to walk home -- it’s not far. The logical part of his brain tells him that this is nothing, but his heart which has become a little more cleaned up since meeting Friday wants to break down. 

He can’t help it -- he starts to cry. It’s devastating to him and it makes no sense. 

While walking he mostly looks at the ground, but he hears a voice ahead of him that he’s not sure how to interpret. It’s Friday of course, not in his work uniform but heading towards work anyway. The only thing he says is Reid’s name. 

Reid approaches him and Friday begins to explain himself, “My cell broke last night and I had no idea you called until my roommate came home and said you were there and I felt so bad, I was going to the bar to use their phone. Are you crying? I’m so sorry, Spence, I-”

He’s cut off abruptly as Reid grabs his face and kisses him deeply, his frustration and love taking over the logic part of his brain while the latter prepares for likely failure. Friday takes a second to realize what just happened, but wraps his arms around Spencer’s waist and kisses him back, and when they break apart they stay like that, Reid’s hands on Friday’s face and Friday’s arms around Reid’s waist. 

Friday leans in closer, close enough that Reid can feel his breath on his skin and says softly in a low voice meant for telling secrets, “I’ve thought about this since I first saw you.”

Reid smiles softly and with relief. “It’s been you the whole time.”

“Hm?” Friday mumbles, embracing the moment, still not letting go. 

“I figured it out after last time. You’re what I want in life. I guess you always have been.”

After that declaration, Spencer finds Friday’s lips again and kisses him for dear life, and they finally part and Reid takes Friday to his apartment because this is a moment they cannot lose. 

The thing that both of them fail to recognize is that in the direction of the bar, in shock from the interaction and rethinking every experience she’s had with Reid, stands JJ. 


	5. Chapter 5

Friday’s mouth hovers over Reid’s smooth skin, his breath making Reid feel things he didn’t know he could feel, kissing and feeling all over his body and it’s almost exactly like the dream he had except better because it was real, Friday was actually in his apartment, in Reid’s own bed and hopefully stays there longer and does this often. 

Reid’s bedroom has a large window, nearly wall-to-wall, and it’s the same type of tinted glass as the black SUVs that Reid has driven for work -- where you can look out and not in. The sun is setting over Quantico and is casting the most perfect golden hue over the room, over the moment. Friday kisses just below his navel, teasing him. Reid’s breathing is heavy and as he goes up to kiss Friday he moans softly into his mouth when Friday touches any one of his more pleasurable spots. Reid looks up at him with half-lidded eyes as he wraps his hand around Friday’s cock, making him gasp at the sudden contact, and tugging him to his release, and after his orgasm passes he does the same for Reid, who moans his name as his back arches with pleasure. 

After they both are spent, Friday takes Reid into his arms, Reid’s head on his shoulder and his hand resting on Reid’s waist. Reid falls asleep like that, right as dusk turns to twilight, and Friday admires his angelic sleeping face, sweat from their endeavors plastering his hair to his forehead. He kisses the top of Reid’s head and rests his chin on it, then follows in peaceful sleep. 

They wake up like that too, Friday before Reid, the sun shining high in the sky. When Reid wakes up, he remembers that he’s in Friday’s arms and his heart gets a little neater. 

Friday is running his knuckle up and down the other’s knee, “Good morning, Doctor.”

Still groggy from sleep, Reid just smiles and kisses him. He notices how perfect everything still is, he and Friday still naked in his bed, the sun shining through the window. It looks pretty late, he thinks.

“Hey baby, I’m sorry,” Reid says, and the pet name stirs something in both of them. “What time is it?”

“Noon-ish,” Friday replies. Reid winces and tries to get up and leave the bed, but Friday wraps his strong arms around his waist and prevents him from going any further. 

“I’ve got work,” Reid says, still trying to escape Friday’s grasp. 

“No you don’t, remember? You told me on the phone that Saturday is your day off.”

Reid stops squirming and collapses back into the mattress with a small  _ flump _ . “I lied. I don't necessarily have a "day off," but if I do, it's usually Saturday. They'll expect me there, but w hat happens if I don't show up? They can't kill me.”

“Playing hooky, huh? We could do this all day if we wanted to,” Friday says. 

“What do you mean?” Reid replies with a little head tilt.

“Stay in bed, cuddle, talk, fuck,” Friday replies. “You know, lazy Saturday.”

“I think we should,” says Reid with a smile.

\------

JJ sat at her computer desk at home drawing circles on a piece of copy paper, over and over until she ripped a hole in the paper. Her husband was gone at work, so she was left alone with Henry. 

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with this information, but if she didn’t tell someone she thought she might explode. She wanted to confront Spence about it, but didn’t think it would be her place. She went through the list of her coworkers, Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan were out because she’d only trust another woman to hold a secret like that for her. She didn’t trust Blake, so the only option was Garcia. She’s caring, right? And she loves Spencer as much as JJ does, right? She would keep a secret for JJ and Spence. 

JJ clicked Garcia’s contact in her phone, and it only rang once before she picked up. 

“Working overtime, honey? I love the attitude. What’s up?”

“Penelope, are you alone?”

“Just me, myself, and I, why?”

“I have something I needed to get off my chest, and you’re the only one I can trust with it.”

“Wait, JJ, is this like a phone secret or should I be there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, then elaborate, you’re killing me!”

\--

“I knew I noticed Spence acting different, kind of happier, less obsessed with work. Who would have guessed? I’m happy he found someone, though. After what happened.”

“I just don’t know, Garcia. This is the same guy who almost died for a woman, and now he’s -- god, I don’t know.”

“JJ, forgive my bluntness, but what he does with his relationships is really none of your business. Maybe he likes guys and girls, or even only guys, it doesn’t affect you any more than it did before. He’s the same Reid.”

“Do you think maybe after his girlfriend died he’s going through a new phase or something? I read about this thing --”

Garcia interrupts her with an ‘errt’ sound. “JJ. Butt out. We’ll talk to him about it, but only because he deserves to know that we know. I’m not gonna have you making conclusions about someone else like that. I have to go, anyway. Bye-bye.”

JJ stares at her phone after Garcia hangs up.


	6. Chapter 6

“What do you mean you don’t have email?” Friday says in disbelief. “Everybody has email.”

“I just think the postal service is important, and it’s easier to keep physical mail on file. Also, you can’t catch malware from a paper letter.”

“Uh, yeah you can. It’s called polio.”

As Reid is putting his shirt on, he says, “Actually, poliovirus was eliminated from the United States in 1979, so the chances of it being spread through mail is unlikely.”

“That was a joke,” Friday says, but he thinks Reid’s reaction was endearing.

“I’m not sure what’s funny about poliovirus, but I’ll take your word for it,” he replies, smiling. “Also, as much as I love seeing you naked in my bed, you have work in an hour.”

Friday checks the time. “Shit, you’re right. How did you remember?”

“Eidetic memory, you told me your hours on the phone and I pieced together your work schedule in my mind.”

“That’s weird. I love it,” Friday replies, sitting up to kiss behind Reid’s ear before standing up and putting his clothes on.

“The only thing people ever seem to call me is weird. It’s getting kind of old, I think.”

“Okay,” says Friday, wrapping his arms around Spencer. “Pretty--” he exaggerates every word with a kiss. “Sexy --” kiss. “Smart --” kiss. “Perfect --” kiss.

“You New Yorkers are smooth talkers, aren’t you?”

\------

JJ can’t help but spy on Reid and his new boyfriend. Actually, she thinks she can’t help it, but she most definitely can. There she sits at the corner table in the bar in a ridiculous, movie-esque disguise as she sees Reid kiss the other man through the window before walking back the direction he came. The other man goes in and puts an apron on -- he works there. She sees him serve drinks and hopes he washed his hands after whatever went on between them last night -- god, it was just so weird to her. 

Garcia calls her, and she answers to a few inappropriate words which were very out of character for the smiley woman. “What? Pen, what’s wrong?”

“I tracked the GPS on your phone. Tell me why you’re at the bar where you saw Spencer kissing that man?”

“Geez, okay, first of all, creepy,” JJ retorts. “Second of all, none of your business. Maybe I wanted a drink after all of this shit.”

“What shit? What shit, JJ?” Garcia says with an annoyed tone. “It’s only shit because you’re making it shit. Jesus christ, I’m gonna need a bar of soap to the mouth. Keep your hands out of his business. Stop obsessing over this, leave the poor boy alone.”

“Penelope,” JJ says. “God, fine. Can you do one thing, though?”

“That depends entirely on the context.”

“It’s not for me, it’s for Spencer. Can you do some kind of background check on a Friday Callaghan? I just don’t want him to get in any kind of trouble because he doesn’t know who this guy is.”

“JJ --” Garcia starts.

“I would ask it of you for any girl he was dating, too. Please?”

Garcia huffs. She says, “Fine. But that’s all I’m doing for this delusion of yours.”

\------

Reid does have to go into work that next day, and as he walks in and greets his coworkers, he notices JJ avoiding his eyes. He doesn’t think too hard about it.There’s a local case they’re working on, which happens to have a paper trail as tall as Mount Everest, and Reid of course is given that job because of his reading skills. He doesn’t mind it, he loves paper trails.

As Rossi, Hotch, and Blake file out of the room and Reid is left with boxes upon boxes of pages and files. He’s absorbing the information but nothing yet brings him to any kind of evidence. It’s really just tax reports and the like. Soon though, Garcia enters, bringing along a visibly uncomfortable JJ.

“What are you doing here?” Reid says. “Paper isn’t your preferred medium.”

Again, he hadn’t meant it as a joke. Garcia laughs anyway while JJ stays as stoic as before. 

“So,” Garcia starts. “Friday --”

Reid whips his head to her, curious and panicked as to how she knows about him. “I-- how did--”

“No, Reid --” She cuts him off. “The day, Friday, but...also, yeah. JJ called me on Saturday and told me about what she saw outside the bar. I told her it’s none of her business, but we should tell you we know because you deserve to know that.”

“Okay, thanks, Garcia,” he says, running his hands down his face. “God. Does anyone else know?”

“No, just the two of us,” Garcia says. “Right?”

“Yeah,” says JJ. It will be her only contribution to the conversation. The two women walk back to work and Reid stops JJ before she leaves.

“JJ,” he says. “I’m not new to social cues. I understand your discomfort.”

“Okay,” she says.

“Just remember I’m the same person,” he says, almost hurt. “You’re the closest person to me in this place.”

She softens at the remark. “Okay, Spence.”


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS IN THE MENTAL HOSPITAL ODKHFKLDSJ

Reid takes Friday to his home again, and they watch a show in his living room. Friday didn’t want to have to kick his roommate out again, since both of their libidos seemed to have reverted back to teenhood and they’ve been fucking every time they see each other. Reid believes it’s because he’s been without it for so long, not since his last hookups before his FBI training, which is roughly five years. Making up for lost time, he supposes. Friday doesn’t seem to hate it.

They’re five episodes in when Reid kisses Friday and it extends into a long makeout session as expected. Reid goes on to kiss Friday’s jaw and reach his hands under his shirt and feel his toned muscles again, it makes Friday go crazy when Reid does that thing where he reaches under the hem of his shirt to slide his hands over his hips. Even though he’s learning more every time, Reid’s still not very good at sex. It’s okay, being good at it is really besides the point. It turns Friday on every time to just watch Reid squirm under his touch, and it’s even better knowing it’s fully authentic. 

Taking a minute to part from Reid’s lips, he says, “Bedroom,” knowing that it’s not gonna make it past here unless they move now.

“Okay,” Reid says, eyes almost glazed over. 

When they get there, they continue and strip each other’s clothes off and Reid leans in real close with a new feeling -- a sort of bravery he’s built up, I guess -- and says, “I want --” he moans as Friday palms him through his underwear. “Fri’, I want you in me.”

Taken aback, Friday says, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Reid says. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Soon enough, Friday takes a months-old packet of lube out of his drawer, and oils up Reid and his fingers, but before he can do anything Reid stops him and says, “Please be gentle, I’ve never --”

Friday shushes him softly and pushes past the ring of muscle with one finger, stretching Reid out. It’s not exactly what Reid expected, it sort of burned but he knew that was just the beginning. He read about this, as he always would. 

The larger man added a second finger and moved in and out with one at a time, sometimes doing a sort of scissor motion to Reid’s prostate that made him nearly scream with pleasure.

Out of the same drawer he takes out a condom and Reid helps him put it on, making eye contact when they’re done and Friday pushes into him, filling him up slowly. Once he’s all the way in, Reid says he can move, so he goes slowly enough as to not hurt the other, but as he’s loosened, takes the liberty to move a little faster. It hurts Reid a bit, but he adjusts his position to where his legs are locked around Friday’s waist and he’s propped up on his elbows, and it feels a bit better and he moans when Friday finds that spot again deep inside him, it’s heavenly. 

Friday holds Reid’s hips as he fucks into him rhythmically, and Reid sort of whines, “Fuck, fuck, oh --” and there he knows he’s done for. He puts his hands next to where Reid’s are gripping the sheets and hovers over him, leaning down and capturing his lips in a dirty kiss as Reid moans into his mouth. 

“Fri’, I’m gonna -- god -- oh --” 

“Tell me how good you feel, baby,” Friday says, feeling the pressure in his core build.

“Good -- yeah --” Reid’s breathing is heavy and his lips are parted, noises coming from him that are too loud, probably disturbing his neighbors, but neither of them care. 

Friday feels his peak approaching, his thrusts becoming sloppier, and kisses Reid once more before his hips stutter and he groans as the white-hot waves of his orgasm pass over him, the sight bringing Reid to his own. 

After they’ve cleaned up their mess, the two men lay together, Reid’s head on Friday’s chest, hands tracing the tattoos on the larger man’s abdomen. Reid thought they were hot. It completely defies human sexual attraction, but he can’t deny that Friday’s tattoos turned him on. 

“You curse a lot when you fuck,” says Friday, laughing softly.

“Sex and swearing are in the same part of the brain,” Reid says. “the limbic system. Swearing is an emotional intensifier in both good and bad situations because it increases your adrenaline and blood flow.”

Petting Spencer’s hair, Friday says, “I wish I were as smart as you and could know what that actually means.”

“The reason people swear during sex is to intensify an aroused or happy feeling.”

“Oh,” Friday says, smiling. “I guess that means it was good, huh?”

“Mhm,” mumbles Reid, falling asleep on Friday’s chest.

\------

When Reid wakes up, Friday is not next to him. He pulls Friday’s shirt on as it was the closest article of clothing to him and walks into his living room. 

Friday is thumbing through one of the books on Reid’s enormous bookshelf, something classic, likely Eliot or Echols as it was near the end of one shelf where the E’s are. Reid sneaks up on him and grabs him suddenly, causing Friday to let out an embarrassing yelp. He turns his head and kisses his boyfriend. 

“G’morning, Spence,” he says in a singsong voice before turning back around to put  _ Because I could not stop for Death  _ back. 

“Whatcha doing?” Spencer asks as Friday pulls another book off the shelf, Dickens. 

“How fast would you be able to read this?” Friday asks out of curiosity.

“I’ve done it before in fifteen minutes.”

“God,” Friday sighs. “Doesn’t that ever get boring?”

“No,” says Reid as Friday braces for an explanation. He doesn’t get one, as that is where Reid finishes his sentence.

Laughing softly at Reid who looks like a small puppy, he puts his hands on the sides of his boyfriend’s head and examines his face. “I thought you would tell me why it doesn’t get boring.”

“Oh,” Reid says. “Usually when a question is asked it only requires the answer. Do you still want the reason why?”

“Mm, so technical. When are you finally gonna come out as an encyclopedia?”

Reid recognizes the joke and smiles before saying, “I think maybe you should know now that I have asperger’s syndrome. It’s a form of autism.”

Friday tilts his head to the side. “Oh. Cool, I guess?”

“It’s okay if you don’t know how to react,” Spencer says. “I just thought the information was relevant.”

The corner of Friday’s mouth twitches. He turns back to the shelf and puts Dickens back, pulling out another book,  _ The Narrative of John Smith  _ by Arthur Conan Doyle. Reid gasps when he realizes what Friday is holding. 

Friday notices that the first page is the only book he’s seen on Reid’s shelf with something written inside. “This was from Maeve, wasn’t it?”

Reid had told Friday more about Maeve awhile ago, their Sherlock Holmes references and other things. Still, Reid feels a pang in his stomach at Friday’s remark, the sudden sense that something has gone completely wrong. 

Friday stills, noticing Reid’s change in body language. “Are you okay?”

Quietly, but surely, Reid says, “I never told you her name.”


	8. Chapter 8

Meanwhile, Penelope comes to a similar realization. She looked up Friday Callahan in every legal record and is stunned to find out that he doesn’t exist. Or, he does, but with a different name. 

Friday Callahan has no legal documents. Even his apartment is in what seems to be his roommate’s name, but he has no phone records, census records, or anything of the sort, which would be the case if Friday wasn’t some kind of alias. 

She looks at her phone, seeing her most recent call is JJ, but decides that it really is none of JJ’s business. This would almost cement the younger woman’s discomfort at the prospect, and she really wanted none of that if Reid would continue to date men. Instead, she clicks on Reid’s contact, and it rings once before he picks up.

“Hey, Garcia,” he says. It almost sounds like he has a cold. 

“Reid, are you alone right now?” she puts on her sympathetic, mother voice. 

“Yeah,” he says, and sniffles. 

“I ran a background check on Friday. Don’t get mad, I did it for all of Rossi’s wives. It turns out that Friday Callahan is a fake name. I don’t advise jumping to conclusions, but I thought you should know.”

“I don’t have to jump to conclusions,” Reid says, twinging at Garcia’s heartstrings, “I found out today that -- sorry, would it be too inconvenient for you to come over here? I really -- I just need someone right now.”

Penelope’s eyes widen, as Reid is usually the type to hide his feelings so as not to be a burden. It was rare for him to genuinely ask for help or support. “Of course, Spencer, I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Yeah,” he exhales. “Thank you, Penelope.”

As soon as he hangs up, Garcia is in her car to Reid’s apartment which of course is not far away. She knocks, he answers, and then promptly falls into her arms.

“Oh, baby, okay,” she says quietly as he cries. “Let’s go -- let’s go in.”

He nods and leads her into his apartment. Once she’s seated, he makes two mugs of hot green tea and hands her one. 

“So, what happened?” She says.

“He was here just this morning,” he replies, then continues to recount the events of the day.

\------

_ “I never told you her name,” Reid says, not sure how to react.  _

_ Friday freezes, then chuckles suavely and says, “Yes, you did. How else would I know?” _

_ “Friday,” Reid replies, suddenly angry. “I have a fucking eidetic memory. What’s happening right now?” _

_ “Woah, Spencer, language --” Friday starts, but Reid interrupts him.  _

_ “Language. Language? When things don’t match up it’s not a matter of language. Last night you liked my language. Tell me the truth, Friday.” _

_ “You must have told me her name! I swear to god, I’m not some unsub.” _

_ “Well, what if you turn out to be? Have I gotten myself into danger by being with you?” _

_ “Low fucking blow.” _

_ “Tell me the truth about whatever this is. I hate people lying to me more than anything. Tell me the truth.” _

_ “I --” Friday scoffs. “I can’t! I can’t, really, Spencer, so we should let this go.” _

_ “Let this go? You want me to let go of the fact that you very well might have been stalking me? I can’t let this go. I need you to leave.” _

_ “Leave?” Friday says, hurt. _

_ “Leave.” _

_ “You -- you can’t do that.”  _

_ “Legally, I can. And if you decide to be decent, you will. I’m taking protective measures, Friday.” _

_ “I don’t know why it has to be this way, why we can’t just talk.” _

_ “Talking has gotten me into so many more issues than I’ve needed. We can talk when I’ve figured out what the fuck this is. Goodbye, Friday.” _

_ \------ _

“Oh,” Penelope says. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know how he could do this to me. I trusted him. I gave him everything, my secrets, my bed, my....” he trails off and sighs. Penelope knows what that last word was meant to be.

“Honey, I promise we will get to the very bottom of this,” she says, pulling Reid into her arms and petting his shoulder. 

“Can we…” he starts, “not tell JJ? I don’t want her to --” he chokes up. “I really don’t want her to hate me.”

“Reid,” Penelope makes him look at her. “JJ will never hate you. No one can hate you.”

“It kind of felt like she did for a minute,” Reid says. “When you told me you knew about him.”

Garcia doesn’t say anything, just continues to hold him.

\------

As soon as they both are back at work, everyone else notices something off. Reid doesn’t talk to anyone, focuses only on work yet again. It’s sad, everyone thinks, because he previously had been so happy. They also notice Garcia continue to check in on him, little “how ya doin’s” and “you ok’s?” Many of them attribute it to the fact that Penelope is always more caring and knows how to deal with these kinds of things. JJ doesn’t attribute it to that at all. 

She stops Garcia in the hallway and pulls her into the women’s restroom, turning on the sink as soon as the door is closed. “What happened? WIth Reid? Wasn’t I right?”

The usually happy woman gets angry at JJ, squeezing her eyes shut and exhaling sharply. “You know what, JJ? Fuck you.”

JJ takes a step back. “What’s this new attitude? Did you run the background check? Was I right about his new...boyfriend?”

Garcia puts her hand on her forehead in frustration. “You know Spencer thinks you hate him?”

JJ’s eyes widen, and she says sharply, “What?”

“He told me that yesterday. He thinks you hate him because he’s dating a man.”

The other woman stands speechless. She’s not sure why Spence would think that, considering all of her discomfort is in the name of his safety. 

“Oh, and JJ,” Garcia says before she walks out, “if you want to know so bad, talk to him yourself.”

\------

Spencer works overtime again for the first time since he met Friday, and it unsettles his coworkers, especially Blake. 

She sits next to him after clocking out, and as he reviews files and mouths silently to himself, she watches him. 

“I know you’re not doing okay,” she says softly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but give me something.”

Not taking his eyes or hands off the paper, flipping pages approximately every three seconds, he hears her and inhales shakily, tears welling at the bottom of his eyes. He still continues reading, but lays his head on her shoulder. 

The two friends stay that way. Reid finds extreme comfort in Blake because she reminds him of what a mother should be. His own mother, a schizophrenic, understandably couldn’t be that, and while he knows that one can get along just fine without a maternal figure, sometimes you just need a mother to tell you it’ll be alright. 

Blake found similar comfort in Reid, who reminded her of her lost son. Ethan was smart just like Spencer and likely would’ve turned out like him, too, but it wasn’t to be. She was glad that she applied to the BAU because Spencer nearly filled the part of her heart that Ethan left empty so long ago, but she often felt selfish because Reid should mean a lot more than a surrogate son. He did mean a lot to her in a lot of ways, but she felt wrong about it anyway; the human personality is almost built to loathe itself. 


	9. Chapter 9

At the table, Derek is the one presenting their new case. “Today this gets a little gruesome,” he says before clicking the button on the remote. 

What they see in the picture is decapitated heads in coolers with a surprising lack of blood. “What you’re looking at now was found outside the sheriff’s office in Terlingua, Texas. These men are not identified in public records, so it’s safe to assume they’re undocumented immigrants crossing the border from Mexico, which is only a few miles away.”

He clicks again. A shelf, full of jars with similar heads in them. “A previous...shipment had been found a few years ago but never investigated as the police chief at the time agreed with the murder of immigrants. He was run out of office earlier this year and replaced with sheriff Eva Ruiz, the one who invited us.”

“I suppose we’ll discuss the evidence with her, then?” Hotchner suggests.

JJ nods. “Wheels up in thirty.”

\------

On the jet, Derek, Hotchner, and Rossi are discussing evidence with Garcia via video call. Blake reviews a letter which may be a lead, and Reid hyper-analyzes the photos in question. JJ sits next to Reid, who flinches a bit with awkwardness. 

“Are you okay, Spence?” She asks him sympathetically.

“Yeah,” he says abruptly, bringing the photo up to his face and down to see if he is missing anything. 

“I don’t ask anyone if they’re okay if I don’t already know the answer. Don’t lie to me, I care about you. What...what happened?”

Reid lowers his voice but Blake still eavesdrops without moving, tuning in only to their conversation. “We broke up,” he says, and it takes a lot of willpower for the older woman not to gasp. 

“Oh,” says JJ. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?” Spencer says. “You had your prejudices already, aren’t you glad I’m not a fag anymore or whatever?” He doesn’t speak that way, so informally, unless he’s already seething. 

“Spence!” JJ says, but he doesn’t seem to be having any of it. 

“I’m sorry. Please go away,” he says softly, hurt. She complies.

Blake, who wasn’t supposed to be listening to any of that, feels like she had just swallowed a good tablespoon of glue.

\------

They solve the crime. Both offenders end up dead. They were in the police force, corrupted and also very racist. They thought they were doing some sort of good deed by killing innocent men with families over legal citizenship issues. 

Spencer goes straight home after they get off the jet. He notices that he never put  _ The Narrative of John Smith  _ back, and slips it back into the shelf in its spot under Doyle.

But suddenly he is very angry, and at what? At Friday? At the world? At crime? He pulls the book back out and sets it on his coffee table. Then he pulls out Dickens, and Dickinson, and Echols, and every book on that shelf is on the floor. And then the next shelf, and the next. He’s pushing them off by the armful, tears running down his face, until there is not a thing left on the shelves and his floor is lined with hardcovers. 

He sits on his couch and brings his knees to his chest, tapping his head with his fingers as he does when he is frustrated or upset. He ends up falling asleep like that before his alarm wakes him up for work seven hours later. 

He goes in front of his mirror and fixes his tangled hair, wipes the tear trails on his face, and makes himself look like he hadn’t just woken up. 

He walks to work like he always does, in his weird long cardigan and tie. It’s a normal day, but nothing that ever started with normal ends with normal. 

As he walks through the glass doors of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Hotchner walks up to him and stops him. “Chief Strauss wants to see you.”

“Oh,” Reid says, genuinely surprised. “Why?” 

Hotch just shrugs. It’s not long before Reid is knocking on the door of SES Erin Strauss’s office, except it’s not her who answers. It’s Friday.

Reid stills and shakes his head. “I can’t take this.”

Strauss comes up behind Friday and says, “You have to.”

\------

It’s quiet in the office of the Chief, but loud inside everyone’s mind. “What is this?” Reid finally asks, his legs crossed in the chair ahead of her desk.

“I don’t know,  _ what  _ is this?” Strauss says, directed at Friday.

“It’s not effective communication to answer a question with a question,” Reid says, and Friday can’t help but smile quaintly at the Reid he knew before. 

“Tell him, Finley.”

“Finley?” Reid asks.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this, Mom. You fucking tell him.”

“Watch your language.” 

“No.”

Reid isn’t worried about swear words, he’s caught up with the fact that Friday -- Finley, rather, just called his boss  _ Mom.  _ “Well, someone needs to tell me something soon, so decide fast.” He hadn’t meant it rudely, but Chief Strauss takes offense to it anyway.

“Fine! Fine. I...employed....Finley because I noticed some rifts in the BAU, a lack of organized work, close personal relationships. You all wouldn’t tell me anything, and understandably, since you do work for me. He was supposed to befriend the most...socially vulnerable of all of you and assuage some secrets out of you.”

Reid nods slowly, taking in the words very carefully. “Socially vulnerable, huh? And that’s why I fell for you?” He doesn’t look at Finley while he says the words, mostly because he can’t bear to.

“Spencer, I promise it’s not --”

“Yes, he’s right, Spencer,” Strauss says, cutting her son off. “Becoming romantically involved with you was never the plan. It was never part of the mission.” Venom drips from her voice. “Frankly, I’m upset with both of you. Finley, with your easily attached ways, and Spencer who cannot uncover a very transparent attempt at manipulation.”

“Can you even see the lack of morality you’re showing?” Spencer says. “Forcing your son to do something he didn’t want to, and then blaming our falling-out on the both of us when you started the entire thing anyway?”

Finley finds comfort in the fact that Reid took his side. He looks over and tries to show Reid some expression of solidarity, but Reid freezes him out. 

Strauss dismisses them, but makes it clear that they are not done there. Before Reid can go back to his work, Finley stops him. 

“I want to clear things up. I didn’t--” he sighs. “She did send me to get close to you. But all of...us, of our relationship, was real to me. It wasn’t…” he trails off. “I don’t know what I’m saying. You understand, right?”

“I do, Fri -- Finley. But you have to understand how much this hurt me. I haven’t been able to function like usual due to the emotional effect of this.”

“I know,” Finley replies. “But I’m still the same person. Maybe we could…” he reaches out for Spencer’s hand. “Try again. Start over.”

Reid does allow Finley to hold his hand, but doesn’t make any motion that implies he reciprocates, just kind of keeps his hand limp and his expression blank. 

“I thought I was in love with Friday Callahan, the bartender from New York who grew up with absent parents. He was the only person who paid attention to me with no pretense. He was the only person who seemed to ignore the fact that I was ‘weird.’ I don’t know Finley. I definitely could get to know Finley, but right now what I need is time.”

Finley sighs and drops Spencer’s hand. “I understand. And I’m sorry. You remember my number.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I need to get back to work.” says Reid, walking off.

Before he can leave the room, though, Finley calls, “Doctor?” and the old pet name plays Reid’s heartstrings like a guitar. Reid turns to face him. 

“I love you.”

In the month or so they had been together, neither of them had actually said that. It was a bit sad to think that this was the situation in which it was first said. It’s even sadder to think that Finley really meant it. Reid shuts his eyes as if to block out his emotions, exhales, and continues walking. His heart was back to square one, almost as cluttered again as what he did to his living room floor last night.

Reid doesn’t go directly to his desk or to the case, but clatters into the empty men’s restroom and goes to the larger stall at the back, pushing his back to the wall and sliding down until he’s squatting on his heels, knees to his chest. And he cried. Oh god, he cried. 

When he’s done with his little breakdown, he switches to tunnel vision and goes to work after standing in the mirror and making it seem like he wasn’t just crying. 

He’s not very good at lying. Blake, quietly, stands up from the table and exits the room when they see Reid through the glass. She stops him and silently wraps her arms around him, which he didn’t know he needed until now. “It’ll be alright,” she whispers. 

“Thank you,” he says softly.


	10. Chapter 10

Eventually Reid gets better, stable. He picks up his books and jokes around with his coworkers yet again. But  _ better _ does not mean  _ good.  _ Finley still rests there in the back of his mind. 

He tried to confront Strauss about her fucked-up plan, but she froze him out and threatened his job. Logically, he knew that he was far too valuable to fire over some personal mishap, but he still did not want to take a chance. 

There was a new case that required flying, again in Texas, of several prostitutes with deep, ritualistic post-mortem scars. As they were on the jet, Reid asks about lavender perfume, as it is a biblical reference. He’s right, several of the women also had lavender perfume on their feet like Mary Magdalene. 

The case is one of the most confusing ones he had ever seen, involving a pastor slash pimp, a bar owner that just wanted to see her son, and a corrupt police force. There’s so many loose ends that just need tying, but not before Reid is shot in the neck, nearly killing him. 

He did it on purpose. If he believed in God, he’d say it was a miracle that it missed his arteries, but he pushed Blake out of the way because she definitely would’ve died. And she called him Ethan as he was bleeding out on the police car. 

He wakes up in the hospital with Penelope and several Doctor Who figurines. He smiles at her, glad he didn’t die. He thought he was dead for a moment, but then realized that if he were dead he wouldn’t be thinking at all. 

Penelope is happy to see him conscious, but something about her demeanor doesn’t suggest they are alone. “What’s wrong, Pen?” he croaks out.

She looks up at the ceiling and winces. “I’m really that transparent, aren’t I? I’ll, uh -- I’ll go ahead and leave.”

Through the hospital room door exits Garcia and enters someone Reid hadn’t forgotten about, but definitely tried to. 

“Finley,” he says.

“I heard about what happened, so I flew here overnight.”

“You didn’t --” he winces with pain. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Why?” says Finley. “I just wanted to be here for you, no matter our connection. I do still care about you.”

Reid tears up at the statement and laughs endearingly. “You can always make me cry, Finley.”

Finley reaches over to wipe the tears from Reid’s face. “Don’t do that. Not over me.”

But he doesn’t remove his hands from Reid’s face, even after the tears are gone. They sit in silence as Finley examines the face he knows so well with tenderness in his eyes.

“I still mean what I said,” Reid says finally. “On the street, when I first kissed you. You’re still what I want. All I want.”

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I shouldn’t have listened to my mother. She’s not…” he laughs. “A very good person, if you haven’t noticed.”

Spencer laughs at that, but it hurts to laugh with his recent injury. Finley shushes him softly, making sure he doesn’t injure himself further. 

Finley runs his fingers through Spencer’s hair and rests his hand on the side of his face, and Reid leans into his touch. “Will you forgive me?” he says. “Can we try this again?”

Smiling quaintly, Reid says, “As long as Finley is your real name. Promise me there’s no more secrets.”

Finley leans down to kiss him, and after he breaks away, he repeats, “No more secrets.” 

Penelope walks back in with the nurse, apologizing for breaking their ‘moment.’ Finley backs away and the nurse fiddles with Reid’s IV, saying it’s a painkiller he needs and hasn’t had yet.

Reid, however, reads the label on the IV and panics when it’s not a painkiller, and in an amount that would definitely kill him. The nurse doesn’t stop or say anything, and Reid begs for anyone to grab his gun out of his bag.

Penelope does, and shoots the man before he can secure the drug into Reid’s IV. The look of pure shock on her face is priceless. “Is the ringing in my ears normal? Am I dead?”

Reid smiles up at her. “Garcia, you just saved my life.”

“What did you say?” Her ears had not yet adjusted.

“He was going to kill me. You saved me. Get Hotchner on the phone.”

“Hotchner. Phone.” She pulls her cell phone out of her skirt pocket and clicks Hotch’s contact and explains the situation. Hotchner gives her instructions to pull the fire alarm and escape the hospital with Reid in a wheelchair. 

Reid gets into the wheelchair and Penelope grabs his bag, picking up Reid’s gun with a pinch like she was afraid of it. 

“Give that to Finley,” he says. “Just in case.”

As soon as they’re in the hallway, Penelope pulls the alarm and then the patients file out of the rooms, making the halls an ocean of people which proves difficult if anyone were to target them. 

But the killer, Owen McGregor, the corrupt deputy, starts to walk towards them. He really has nothing to lose anymore, and likely would kill Reid even in front of all these people. When he reaches for his gun, Finley pulls his and points it at the cop, who puts his hands in the air at the sight of the barrel. 

“Just you fucking try it,” says Finley.

\------

They detain McGregor, who is going to prison for a very long time. Hotchner thanks Finley for his excellent work in protecting Reid, but otherwise assumes that the only reason he was there is because he was related to Strauss. He doesn’t know anything about the two of them. It’s not time for that yet. 

Finley gets to ride on the jet back to Quantico with the BAU, and JJ looks at him and Reid from afar. They’re sitting next to each other, not touching, but exchanging light banter. Reid looks relieved, happier than she had seen him in a while. 

She notices her own selfishness for that while they were together. All she did was doubt the relationship, treating it like a problem. Reid was like her little brother, and she wanted to do whatever it took to make him happy. She realizes that by acting that way she was doing just the opposite. 

JJ sets down her 9pm coffee and sits across from Reid and Finley, next to Blake. Reid flinches again, and she sighs. 

“Spencer,” she says. “I want you to know that I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” he replies.

She shrugs and smiles. “I just am. And I’m sorry.”

Reid exhales with relief and pent-up sadness. “Thanks, JJ.”

Blake elbows her. She looks at JJ, to the two men, and then back to JJ. This means  _ are they...you know…  _ in woman code, which is why neither Reid nor Finley catch on. JJ shoots her a look back, one which is affirmative. Blake smiles at her. 

\-----

Finley walks Reid back to his apartment, and Reid insists that he stays, considering that they have almost two months of catching up to do. Finley complies. 

They sit on Reid’s couch together, Reid in Finley’s arms, naturally. Spencer steps away, though, into his kitchen and dials Blake’s number.

“Hey, Spencer,” she answers. “How you feeling?”

“I feel great,” he says, but then corrects himself. “That’s an overstatement. I feel great considering I just got shot in the neck.”

Blake laughs quaintly at the comment. “Why’d you call?”

Spencer narrows his eyes and thinks back on the memory. “Who’s Ethan?”

“He was my son. He, um... died when he was nine. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says.

“It really scared me. I thought you were dying, and it felt like he was dying there all over again. The worst part about it was that he was ready for it, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. You -- you weren’t ready to die, right, Spencer?”

“No,” he says honestly. It really saddened him that she would think that. 

“Good. I need you to stay here. For me, for the BAU, for Finley --” she can’t see it, but Reid blushes at that, not knowing that she knew. “I think I’m going to quit the BAU. I won’t be able to unsee the things I saw, but you all taught me things I won’t forget, either. Ethan would’ve turned out a lot like you. I can’t watch you die ever again.”

“Well--” Reid feels like he should protest her resignation, but at the same time he understands. “I’ll be sad to see you go, but if it’s what you need to do, I accept it.”

“Thank you, Spencer. I need to go now. I love you, really.”

“I love you too, Alex. Be safe out there.”

She hangs up, and Reid goes back to the couch where Finley is now half-asleep, lifting his arm to wrap it around Spencer and then returning to a deep slumber. 

The TV flashes with frames of a movie, the windows are lit up with city lights, and his books are back on the shelf organized by last name. He looks up at his boyfriend, at the television, and realizes that this is what he’s wanted for the longest time.

And his heart? His heart is immaculate.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter, guys. i hope you liked this story! i really enjoyed writing it, and honestly even i am sad it's over. xo

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely self indulgent. leave a comment if u wanna, whats your halloween looking like?


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